


Life with Derek: Man, I Feel like a Woman Remix

by unoriginal_liz



Series: Five (+1) Rooms with a View [3]
Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:36:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginal_liz/pseuds/unoriginal_liz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genderswap AU.  </p>
<p>“That’s Dereka Venturi – the closest thing our generation has to a real live Jessica Wakefield.”  Emily made a face.  “I would advise you to steer clear.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life with Derek: Man, I Feel like a Woman Remix

**Author's Note:**

> IDK...I like genderswap fics. And I would totally have shipped girl!Derek/Casey

_**“You got nothing.”**_

_**“You’re right. But your friend Sam mentioned one. From when you had really long hair in Grade Seven.”** _

_**“Can you pass the butter?”** _

_**“Sure thing...Dereka.”** _

*****

It was her first day at school, and Casey had hoped to make a good first impression. That hope had shrivelled up and died during the three quarters of an hour she had spent waiting outside the bathroom door before finally giving up and pulling her unwashed hair off her face with a hair tie. Instead, she did her best to conceal her lack of shower-freshness with makeup, clothes and scented body-products.

“Wow, Casey – that’s a...new look,” her mom said diplomatically, when she entered the kitchen. Closer inspection of the look on Casey’s face led her to hastily proffer scrambled eggs as a distraction.

Casey didn’t really want a distraction (especially if it tasted like her mother’s version of scrambled eggs).

“Well, _someone_ was hogging the shower this morning,” she said, as she slid onto a stool. Beside her, Marti lapped the milk from her cereal bowl. “I assumed the short hair would be low maintenance, but obviously, I was wrong,” she muttered.

Lizzie smiled sympathetically at her, while Edwin and George exchanged a Look.

“Yeah...Dereka’s not really a ‘low-maintenance’ kind of girl,” Edwin said.

As if it was an entry-cue, that was when she breezed into the kitchen, ignoring the social nicety of acknowledging anyone else’s presence in lieu of reaching over Casey and grabbing a box of cereal. Her short hair was dishevelled, and she wore a casual (if tight-fitting) long sleeved t-shirt and jeans.

Casey couldn’t help it – she was _outraged_. “That’s it?” she asked, folding her arms and staring in disbelief at her new (and to her eyes, unimproved) stepsister. “The reason I couldn’t use the shower this morning...is because it takes you that long to make it look like you just rolled out of bed?!”

Dereka was unruffled. “It’s the tousled look,” she said, pouring cereal into a bowl. “And for the record? Guys totally dig it.”

With a mixture of amusement and worry, George said, “Uh-huh...and for the record – just how much do they ‘dig it’?”

Dereka rolled her eyes, and put her hand on her dad’s arm. She half-whispered, “Unclench, dad, it was just a joke.”

“I know a joke,” Marti announced.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” Casey said. “I mean, Dereka already has her own room – does she have to take over the bathroom as well?”

Dereka sighed and explained, “Look – I know this may be hard for you to understand, but some of us don’t use ‘having a boyfriend’ as an excuse to let ourselves go.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Really?” she looked Casey up and down, fake-puzzled. “Then...what _is_ your excuse?”

“Dereka,” George warned. He turned to Casey. “If it helps, don’t think of Dereka having her own room as a privilege...think of it as – a time-out corner.”

“Why isn’t anyone listening to my joke?” Marti demanded, lower lip beginning to stick out.

“Because Casey’s a total drama queen,” Dereka explained kindly.

“Oh, I point out the inherent unfairness in a system that allows you to get everything you want, and suddenly _I’m_ a drama queen?”

Dereka shrugged.

“You know what?” Casey said, as she stood up, “I don’t have time for this, because I have to get a locker before school starts.”

“I’m sure Dereka would be happy to show you around,” George said.

Everyone looked at him. Edwin reached over and put a hand on his forehead. “Dad, I don’t think any of us should go to school today. Whatever you have...it might be contagious.”

“No, I mean it,” George said. “It’s the least Dereka can do...isn’t that right, Dereka?”

“Actually, dad, I’m pretty sure I could do even less,” she said, only to stop at the look on George’s face. “Fine,” she sighed ungraciously, scraping the stool loudly against the floor as she got to her feet.

“Well, come on,” she gestured at Casey, “My social standing’s not going to ruin itself.”

As the door closed behind them, Nora frowned. “Are you sure that was such a good idea?”

“Believe me, it’s just girl stuff. They’ll work it out,” George said.

Doubtful looks were exchanged between Edwin, Lizzie and Nora, while tired of being ignored, Marti shouted, “KNOCK KNOCK!”

*****

Dereka’s ‘tour’ consisted of sweeping her hand towards the building and announcing, “School.” She glanced at Casey, “Well, I’ll see you at home – if I can’t avoid it.”

“That’s it?” Casey asked. “Aren’t you going to show me around?”

“Do you need me to?” she asked flatly. “I mean, this is your area of overachievement, isn’t it? So, use the force, Obi-Wan Keenerobi...and try to stay out of my way.”

With that, she disappeared, leaving Casey to sort out her locker situation alone.

Twenty minutes later, and she was picking her books off the floor, with the aid of her really nice and helpful lockermate, Emily, who was doing a good job of providing all the advice that certain stepsisters _should have_ provided.

“– so you should definitely avoid the cafeteria on Thursdays. Friday’s okay, and...oh! Speaking of things you should avoid...” Emily looked over Casey’s shoulder and raised her eyebrows. Casey turned and saw...

“I don’t believe it,” she muttered at the sight of Dereka, leaning against a locker further down the corridor, surrounded by boys.

“That’s Dereka Venturi – the closest thing our generation has to a real live Jessica Wakefield.” Emily made a face. “I would advise you to steer clear.”

“Dereka’s popular?” Casey asked, squinting as Dereka pushed herself away from the locker, and squeezed past the guy in front of her, pausing to give him a flirtatious smile and an unnecessary pat on the chest.

“Not exactly _popular_ ,” Emily hedged. “‘Notorious’ might be a better word.”

At that moment, Dereka paraded past them. She dropped a careless, “Emily,” completely ignoring Casey.

“Dereka,” Emily acknowledged. As soon as she had passed, Emily looked at Casey and continued, “Believe me, I know what you’re thinking – but I’m not basing my advice entirely on gossip. I have personal experience of the Dereka Phenomenon. She’s my next door neighbour, and we used to be friends. Until she stopped borrowing my clothes, and began ‘borrowing’ my first boyfriend.” Emily sighed. “I never got him _or_ my green sweater back.”

Casey grimaced. “I’m sorry,” she said. It just figured that Dereka could mess up her first potential friendship...without even being physically present.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Emily shrugged.

“Well, not that, but...” Casey smiled ruefully, “I’m your neighbour too. Dereka’s my new stepsister.”

“Oh.” Emily blinked at her. She bit her lip. “The floor’s not going to open up and swallow me anytime soon, is it?”

Casey shook her head. “Nope.”

“I am so sorry – I didn’t mean...when I said those things about Dereka...” she trailed off, and she looked so embarrassed, Casey took pity on her.

“Hey, it’s okay. Why don’t we...just forget about that, and start again?”

Emily looked relieved.

“And, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Dereka and I are going to be exchanging friendship bracelets anytime soon.”

*****

“ – and why does that bother you?” Paul asked.

Casey looked at him. “Because we’re a _family_ ,” she said. “And I for one, have made some really big sacrifices for this new family. But Dereka hasn’t compromised on _anything_. Is it so much to ask that she acknowledge my existence? Say hello when she passes me in the hallway? Because I think that’s a pretty miniscule demand, as demands go. I mean - I don't even get a room of my own!”

“Well, maybe Dereka just...handles things in a different way,” Paul suggested. “People often react to sudden upheavals by” –

“By pretending nothing has changed? Avoidance isn’t a healthy coping strategy,” she pointed out.

“I didn’t say it was healthy, I just mentioned” –

“And anyway, why should she have the exclusive rights to denial? No-one else has the luxury of a free pass to ‘Life as Normal.’ It’s not fair!”

“It does sound” –

“I mean, I know she doesn’t want us here – but it’s not like this was my first choice either, and _I'm_ the one finding out how many items _don't_ fit into a single room firsthand...what would you suggest?”

“It sounds to me,” Paul began, and stopped, as if waiting for something.

“Yes?” Casey asked.

“Oh,” he said. “Okay. Well, I guess I would suggest...engaging with Dereka on – different terms. I mean, there has to be something you two have in common, right? And maybe you can use that to develop” –

“I hate to interrupt,” Casey said (Paul’s lips twitched slightly at this), “But Dereka and I have _nothing_ in common.”

“Surely there must be something” –

Casey shook her head. “Believe me – we’re nothing alike. Well,” she allowed, “if you were really reaching I guess you could say...” she trailed off.

“I could say...?” Paul prompted.

Casey stared at him, wide-eyed. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!” she said, in the voice of one who has just had a profound epiphany. “Paul – you’re completely right!”

“I am?” he said. “Well, that’s always good to hear.”

“I mean, I’ve been so focused on our superficial differences that I forgot our core similarity.”

“Which is?”

“We’re both girls.”

Paul blinked. “That _is_ a similarity,” he agreed.

“It’s more than that,” she said forcefully. “Don’t you see? It’s the key!”

“It...is?”

“Think about it – until recently, Dereka’s family has been male-oriented...George, Edwin...and let’s face it, Marti’s too young to be considered an ally...it makes perfect sense!”

“I’m glad to hear that...even if I don’t really understand it,” Paul said, forehead wrinkling.

“Dereka has grown up in a microcosm of the patriarchal system!” Casey explained. “She probably thinks that fighting is the only way to retain her rights. If I want Dereka to stop treating me like the enemy, all I have to do is make her see that feminism means that we, as women, are natural allies.”

“That sounds easy,” Paul said, with a slight stress on the word ‘sounds.’

Casey didn’t appear to notice this as she nodded in satisfaction.

*****

When she walked into Dereka’s room, there was a brief moment where she almost got derailed – because seeing that much space for one (selfish) person really set off her ‘unfairness alert’. As if to underscore the point, Dereka was stretched out on her bed, reading (or, more likely in Casey’s opinion, constructing a very basic narrative with the aid of pictures).

“What is it?” she asked. Uninterested, she flicked another page of her magazine.

Casey mentally shook herself. “I call a truce,” she said.

Dereka deigned to look at her. “Good call – since you’re losing,” she said. “But that’s not really how these things work.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Dereka rolled her eyes, and got to her feet. She dropped her magazine on the computer desk and admitted, “It did seem kind of short for a Casey-statement. I didn’t even fall asleep halfway through.”

“I’m offering you the chance to discuss things calmly and openly – in the spirit of sisterhood,” Casey finished.

“You seem to have forgotten one crucial fact – _we_ are not sisters. We don’t share the same bloodline, parents, or, thankfully,” Dereka looked upwards, as if offering gratitude to an unnamed deity, “bone structure. By the way, have you ever considered surgery for that...” she shuddered as if words alone couldn’t express the horror that needed to be expressed, and used her index finger to circle the general area of Casey’s face.

Casey bit her tongue and said, almost evenly, “I didn’t mean _literal_ sisterhood. I meant it in the sense of a _universal_ sisterhood.”

Dereka looked at her blankly.

“Feminism,” she clarified.

“Feminism,” Dereka repeated thoughtfully. She tilted her head as if considering the words. “Universal sisterhood?”

Casey nodded eagerly. This was it! She could feel it – the breakthrough moment, where Dereka finally admitted –

“What a crock.”

“It’s okay - your past experiences just blinded you to...I’m sorry, did you just say that _feminism is a crock?”_

Dereka shrugged.

“The philosophy that led to female liberation, equality and empowerment...is a _crock_?”

“Come on,” Dereka scoffed, taking a step closer. “Take a good look at this ‘universal sisterhood’ kick. We’re supposed to bond over what? The fact that we both have breasts?” She directed a dismissive look at Casey’s chest. “ _Allegedly_ ,” she added, as Casey flushed and fought the urge to fold her arms over her upper body.

She regarded Casey consideringly. “Do you want to hear _my_ philosophy?” she asked finally.

“I don’t know if ‘chaos’ counts as a philosophy,” she retorted.

“Competition,” Dereka said, ignoring her.

“Competition?” she repeated in disbelief.

Dereka inclined her head. “Think about it. Everyone’s fighting for a limited amount of resources, and the strongest – and smartest – are going to win. This share-y, care-y ‘feminism’ crap is just an excuse to blame someone else when you’re too weak to get what you want.”

“You don’t believe that,” Casey insisted. “Even someone as unenlightened as you _can’t_ believe that!”

“Why not?”

Casey cast around for something, anything that would shake Dereka’s obnoxious confidence. “Because – what kind of example does that set for Marti?” she produced with triumph. Okay, Dereka hadn’t seen the importance of _metaphorical_ sisterhood, but surely even she couldn’t deny the ethics of care involved in literal sisterhood?

“One that works?”

Or...maybe she could.

Casey shook her head in disbelief (and maybe a little, a very little, superiority). “If that’s what you really believe...then I feel sorry for you.”

This was obviously the wrong tack. Dereka’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped into Casey’s space. Casey forced herself to not step back as they stood eye to eye.

“Okay, Little Miss Double A – allow me to present you with a reality check. There’s no such thing as a ‘universal sisterhood’ – and you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have pitched a fit about having to _share_ a room with _your actual sister_.”

“That’s completely different!” Casey disagreed, staring Dereka down.

“Why? Because it doesn’t support your lame argument? Face it, Casey,” Dereka’s voice lowered and became soft and insinuating, “As a girl, you know that the way to get what you want is by a) crying, b) throwing a hissy, or c) occasionally putting your shoulders back and aiming your...attributes...in the right direction.”

As she said this, Dereka straightened, providing an object lesson in what she meant. Casey very firmly kept her eyes fixed on Dereka’s face. “Unlike you, I don’t use my attributes to get what I want,” she said, disdainfully.

Dereka smirked. “ _What_ attributes?” She flicked another look downwards while Casey gasped in indignation.

“You – you...”

Dereka raised an eyebrow.

“You – misguided” –

She clasped a hand over her heart as if wounded.

“ – unprincipled” –

She gasped in mock-horror.

“ – tool of the patriarchy!” Casey finished indignantly.

Dereka staggered backwards dramatically, and collapsed onto her bed, as if overwhelmed by the shock of Casey’s attack, before settling herself comfortably.

“Shut the door on your way out, wouldja sis?” she asked, crossing her feet at the ankles and stretching contentedly.

*****

“I don’t get it,” Edwin said, frowning.

“Yeah,” Lizzie chimed in. “I mean, I thought feminism was about supporting other women.”

“Generally, yes,” Casey allowed. “But feminism is _also_ about fighting for your rights, demanding equality, and,” she narrowed her eyes, “…crushing oppressors.”

“Wow – feminism sounds kind of fun when you put it like that,” Edwin sounded mildly interested.

“Good – then we can count on you to play your part in our campaign against Dereka.”

Edwin stared at her, mouth open. “Question,” he said. “Are you tired of _living_?”

“No, I’m tired of being oppressed,” Casey countered. “Dereka gets her way _all the time_.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of how things work around here.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” she said, smoothly switching gears.

Edwin squinted at her. “What do you mean?” he asked warily.

“Imagine a world where you get to sit in Dereka’s chair” –

“No-one sits in Dereka’s chair!” Edwin interrupted. “She gets all female about it!”

Casey continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “Imagine a world where _you_ get remote privileges.”

He considered this for a second. “Tempting, but” –

Wildly, she cast around for the Dealbreaker – because, unappealing as bartering for Edwin’s assistance was, she knew that ‘solidarity’ was the only stance that might work if she wanted to challenge Dereka’s dictatorship. Granted, she couldn’t hope for total solidarity, since Marti probably wouldn’t understand the meaning of the word, but that just made Edwin’s participation all the more important.

With a momentary grimace, she lowered her standards (depressingly, this was getting to be almost a habit these days). She offered a heartfelt apology to Susan B. Anthony as she wheedled, “Imagine a world where you, Edwin Venturi, get to be man of the house.”

He stopped. Carefully, he asked, “I would get to be man of the house?”

Sitting cross legged on her bed, Lizzie mused, “I don’t think I understand feminism at all.”

*****

The campaign began the next morning, with Lizzie waiting outside the bathroom door, until Dereka stumbled into her path, eyes still half closed and hair…well, not substantially different to her hair post-shower and styling.

Lizzie cleared her throat. Dereka squinted at her. 

“We’ve drawn up a schedule for the bathroom.” She handed Dereka a piece of paper. “If we all follow this, it should give everyone equal shower time.” She watched Dereka carefully for her reaction.

“Great,” she said.

“Really?”

Dereka shrugged. “It’s a free country. You’re free to draw up schedules, and I’m free to ignore them. Works for me.”

She sidestepped Lizzie and closed the bathroom door.

*****

“ – andI’llbeinthekitchengoodluck!” Casey finished hurriedly as the door began to open. She scurried off. Edwin made an abortive grab for her arm, before freezing as Dereka entered.

She took in the spectacle of Edwin perched uneasily on her chair, and raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Living dangerously, huh, Ed?” Her voice was mild, and it was possible to mistake the expression on her face for amused tolerance. Until the point where it abruptly slid off, replaced with a suspicious blankness. She flicked her fingers in a clear ‘Move. Now,’ gesture, but Edwin swallowed and remained where he was.

“You’re still on my chair,” Dereka pointed out.

“You’re right – I should” – Edwin stopped and rallied. “I mean – I was here first.”

“Not seeing how that relates to you not moving,” Dereka said. She put her hands on her hips.

“I think – we should be able to share,” he tried.

“I don’t. Now move.”

Edwin twisted around, appearing to take some comfort from the closed kitchen doors. “No,” he said.

“Okay, this isn’t cute anymore, Edwin – and if you don’t move…” she trailed off, threateningly.

“Do your worst,” he replied, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He cautiously opened them a few seconds later, to find Dereka, arms folded, staring at him with an unfamiliar look on her face. It looked like – pity?

“I didn’t want things to come to this,” she sighed.

Edwin tensed. “You’re going to use your nails, aren’t you?” he asked with trepidation.

“Oh, no. It’s gone too far for that,” Dereka said sadly, shaking her head. “If you’re not out of my chair within the next three seconds, I’m going to scar you with all the intimate details of my cycle. And,” the steel re-entered her tone, “I don’t mean the healthy, outdoorsy kind.”

Edwin leapt from his seat, arms crossed as if to ward off sudden outbreaks of TMI. Dereka curled up in the vacated chair with a satisfied sigh. Edwin watched morosely, and she caught his eye. “Shouldn’t you be making me an apology sandwich?” she asked. 

“Fine,” he muttered, in defeat. “But I’m not cutting off the crusts!” he warned, with a momentary return of defiance.

Dereka tilted her head. “Womb” – she said experimentally.

Edwin ran.

*****

Casey was already frustrated at Edwin’s sudden and irrevocable resignation from the pact of solidarity. And, of course, Dereka’s own smug attitude didn’t help. When Casey stomped over to inform her that dinner was ready, she unhurriedly got to her feet and, as she passed, she leaned in close and murmured in Casey’s ear, “Turning Edweirdo all the way up to ‘annoying’? Is that seriously the best you’ve got?”

There were times when Casey seriously did question aspects of feminism. Not because of Dereka’s words (oh please!), but because…whenever Dereka did stuff like that – leaning into her personal space and whispering, her heart-rate kicked up in this primal flight-or-fight response (inevitably, she always chose fight). And Casey ended up wondering if she, a committed feminist, couldn’t convince her own body that her own (step)sister wasn’t a threat, well…maybe feminism wasn’t so foolproof after all?

Of course, these thoughts only lasted until Dereka stepped back and stopped crowding her, and then she was Casey McDonald: Fervent Feminist again. Still, her annoyance at her unCaseyish response to Dereka, coupled with her annoyance at Edwin’s farewell to their solidarity pact, meant that a dinnertime argument was inevitable.

So, when the conversation turned to school, Casey mentioned her new friend Emily as an example of a _friendly_ and _kind_ and _helpful_ person – in pointed, if unvoiced, contrast to certain other people.

“Emily Davis? You know, she and Dereka used to be best friends,” George mused.

“Yeah – until I realized how overprotective she was about her stuff. I borrowed her green sweater once, and she would _not_ shut up about it.”

“Dimi doesn’t like it when I take his things,” Marti volunteered.

“But I’m sure that when you realize that Dimi’s upset, you give his things back,” Casey said. “Unlike _Dereka_.”

“No,” Marti shook her head vigorously. “I hit him.”

Dereka laughed, while George made an attempt to explain why violence didn’t solve anything, in spite of Marti's evidence to the contrary. Casey glared. “Way to set a good example for Marti. You’re probably the reason she thinks it’s okay to just take other people’s things,” she hissed.

Dereka rolled her eyes. “It was one sweater. And it looked better on me, anyway.”

Her indignation on behalf of Emily, coupled with the satisfaction of channelling her frustration with Dereka, made her continue recklessly with, “And what about her boyfriend? Did he look better on you too?”

Lizzie dropped her fork.

“What?” George sounded surprised.

Dereka downplayed it (with a quick glance at her father that suggested this was a strategic decision). “Is she still talking about that?” She shook her head. “Everyone tells you that sharing is a positive thing, but the second you put that to the test…”

“It…doesn’t really work that way with people, Dereka,” Nora explained, sounding concerned.

George seemed lost. “That big argument you had – _wasn’t_ over a sweater?”

Dereka shrugged. “Same principle?” she offered, with a hopeful smile. 

“Dereka, that isn’t” – George began, before catching Nora’s eye and stopping with a sigh. “I think we should talk about this later,” he amended.

“Dad,” Dereka said, abruptly switching strategies, and going on the offensive, “You’re not seriously going to punish me for something that happened a year ago?”

“Talk about a suspended sentence,” Edwin observed.

“It’s not a punishment, it’s just a…talk,” George said.

“And that’s _not_ a punishment?” Dereka asked in disbelief. “Believe me, if I could go back and do things differently, I would – but I can’t, so…what’s the point in talking about it, again?”

George considered this. “Well, you do seem to have learned from” –

“I have,” Dereka assured him. “And if I had known how possessive Emily was…no way would I have done it. Plus,” she continued, “he turned out to be clingy _and_ inexperienced. Totally not worth the effort.”

*****

After her discussion with George, Dereka made her way to Casey and Lizzie’s room. She leaned against the door-frame until Casey looked up. Apparently taking her start of surprise as sufficient acknowledgement of her presence, Dereka said, “Not bad. For an amateur.”

“What are you talking about?” Casey asked, marking her place in her book and getting to her feet.

“Your little attempt to gain power. Thanks for proving my point, by the way.”

“You had a point?” Casey raised an eyebrow and folded her arms challengingly.

“That sisterhood doesn’t mean squat when it stands in the way of something you want.”

“Feminism doesn’t mean I have to give you a free pass, just because you’re a girl,” Casey clarified, annoyed.

“Yet I’m supposed to give you one? How convenient,” Dereka mused. Abruptly, she straightened. “But…a little sisterly advice? Give up. No matter how good you are at crying, or pitching your little drama-tantrums…I’m better – because I don’t have your stupid ‘principles’ to get in the way. Or as I like to put it, I’m not a gigantic hypocrite.”

“I am not a hypocrite!” Casey denied, and then stopped. Her eyes widened as a thought struck her. “Are you feeling threatened?” she asked, a note of wonder sneaking into her tone. Unconsciously, she took a step forward, eyes fixed on Dereka’s face.

Dereka promptly rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Like anything you could do would ever make me break a sweat.”

“Oh really? Because coming up here to try to intimidate me into giving up…kind of says otherwise.”

“I was just being nice, and giving you an opportunity to stop humiliating yourself – even though that’s probably a lost cause. Believe me, I’m not threatened.”

Casey looked at her for a long moment. If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that Dereka did not do ‘nice’. And _that_ meant that she was on the right track. Casey stepped forward again, until they were almost nose to nose. She ignored the way her heart sped up in warning.

“Good,” she said, drawing it out, savouring the moment. “Then you’ve got no reason to worry about the family meeting I plan on calling.” She watched as Dereka clenched her jaw, then asked innocently, “Do you?”


End file.
